LORD AND LADY GEORGE GO UP TO TOWN.
Time went on, and the day arranged for the migration to London came
round. After much delicate fencing on one side and the other, this was
fixed for the 31st January. The fencing took place between the Dean,
acting on behalf of his daughter, and the ladies of the Manor Cross
family generally. They, though they conceived themselves to have had
many causes of displeasure with Mary, were not the less anxious to keep
her at Manor Cross. They would all, at any moment, have gladly assented
to an abandonment of the London house, and had taught themselves to
look upon the London house as an allurement of Satan, most unwisely
contrived and countenanced by the Dean. And there was no doubt that, as
the Dean acted on behalf of his daughter, so did they act on behalf of
their brother. He could not himself oppose the London house; but he
disliked it and feared it, and now, at last, thoroughly repented
himself of it. But it had been a stipulation made at the marriage; and
the Dean's money had been spent. The Dean had been profuse with his
money, and had shown himself to be a more wealthy man than any one at
Manor Cross had suspected. Mary's fortune was no doubt her own; but the
furniture had been in a great measure supplied by the Dean, and the
Dean had paid the necessary premium on going into the house. Lord
George felt it to be impossible to change his mind after all that had
been done; but he had been quite willing to postpone the evil day as
long as possible.
Lady Susanna was especially full of fears, and, it must be owned,
especially inimical to all Mary's wishes. She was the one who had
perhaps been most domineering to her brother's wife, and she was
certainly the one whose domination Mary resisted with the most settled
determination. There was a self-abnegation about Lady Sarah, a
downright goodness, and at the same time an easily-handled magisterial
authority, which commanded reverence. After three months of residence
at Manor Cross, Mary was willing to acknowledge that Lady Sarah was
more than a sister-in-law,--that her nature partook of divine
omnipotence, and that it compelled respect, whether given willingly or
unwillingly. But to none of the others would her spirit thus humble
itself, and especially not to Lady Susanna. Therefore Lady Susanna was
hostile, and therefore Lady Susanna was quite sure that Mary would fall
into great trouble amidst the pleasures of the metropolis.
"After all," she said to her elder sister, "what is L1,500 a year to
keep up a house in London?"
"It will only be for a few months," said Lady Sarah.
"Of course she must have a carriage, and then George will find himself
altogether in the hands of the Dean. That is what I fear. The Dean has
done very well with himself, but he is not a man whom I like to trust
altogether."
"He is at any rate generous with his money."
"He is bound to be that, or he could not hold up his head at all. He
has nothing else to depend on. Did you hear what Dr. Pountner said
about him the other day? Since that affair with the newspaper, he has
gone down very much in the Chapter. I am sure of that."
"I think you are a little hard upon him, Susanna."
"You must feel that he is very wrong about this house in London. Why is
a man, because he's married, to be taken away from all his own
pursuits? If she could not accommodate herself to his tastes, she
should not have accepted him."
"Let us be just," said Lady Sarah.
"Certainly, let us be just," said Lady Amelia, who in these
conversations seldom took much part, unless when called upon to support
her eldest sister.
"Of course we should be just," said Lady Susanna.
"She did not accept him," said Lady Sarah, "till he had agreed to
comply with the Dean's wish that they should spend part of their time
in London."
"He was very weak," said Lady Susanna.
"I wish it could have been otherwise," continued Lady Sarah; "but we
can hardly suppose that the tastes of a young girl from Brotherton
should be the same as ours. I can understand that Mary should find
Manor Cross dull."
"Dull!" exclaimed Lady Susanna.
"Dull!" ejaculated Lady Amelia, constrained on this occasion to differ
even from her eldest sister. "I can't understand that she should find
Manor Cross dull, particularly while she has her husband with her."
"The bargain, at any rate, was made," said Lady Sarah, "before the
engagement was settled; and as the money is hers, I do not think we
have a right to complain. I am very sorry that it should be so. Her
character is very far from being formed, and his tastes are so
completely fixed that nothing will change them."
"And then there's that Mrs. Houghton!" said Lady Susanna. Mrs. Houghton
had of course left Manor Cross long since; but she had left a most
unsatisfactory feeling behind her in the minds of all the Manor Cross
ladies. This arose not only from their personal dislike, but from a
suspicion, a most agonising suspicion, that their brother was more fond
than he should have been of the lady's society. It must be understood
that Mary herself knew nothing of this, and was altogether free from
such suspicion. But the three sisters, and the Marchioness under their
tuition, had decided that it would be very much better that Lord
George should see no more of Mrs. Houghton. He was not, they thought,
infatuated in such a fashion that he would run to London after her;
but, when in London, he would certainly be thrown into her society. "I
cannot bear to think of it," continued Lady Susanna. Lady Amelia shook
her head. "I think, Sarah, you ought to speak to him seriously. No man
has higher ideas of duty than he has; and if he be made to think of it,
he will avoid her."
"I have spoken," replied Lady Sarah, almost in a whisper.
"Well!"
"Well!"
"Was he angry?"
"How did he bear it?"
"He was not angry, but he did not bear it very well. He told me that he
certainly found her to be attractive, but that he thought he had power
enough to keep himself free from any such fault as that. I asked him to
promise me not to see her; but he declined to make a promise which he
said he might not be able to keep."
"She is a horrid woman, and Mary. I am afraid, likes her," said Lady
Susanna. "I know that evil will come of it."
Sundry scenes counter to this were enacted at the deanery. Mary was in
the habit of getting herself taken over to Brotherton more frequently
than the ladies liked; but it was impossible that they should openly
oppose her visits to her father. On one occasion, early in January, she
had got her husband to ride over with her, and was closeted with the
Dean while he was away in the city. "Papa," she said, "I almost think
that I'll give up the house in Munster Court."
"Give it up! Look here, Mary; you'll have no happiness in life unless
you can make up your mind not to allow those old ladies at Manor Cross
to sit upon you."
"It is not for their sake. He does not like it, and I would do anything
for him."
"That is all very well; and I would be the last to advise you to oppose
his wishes if I did not see that the effect would be to make him
subject to his sisters' dominion as well as you. Would you like him to
be always under their thumb?"
"No, papa; I shouldn't like that."
"It was because I foresaw all this that I stipulated so expressly as I
did that you should have a house of your own. Every woman, when she
marries, should be emancipated from other domestic control than that of
her husband. From the nature of Lord George's family this would have
been impossible at Manor Cross, and therefore I insisted on a house in
town. I could do this the more freely because the wherewithal was to
come from us, and not from them. Do not disturb what I have done."
"I will not go against you, of course, papa."
"And remember always that this is to be done as much for his sake as
for yours. His position has been very peculiar. He has no property of
his own, and he has lived there with his mother and sisters till the
feminine influences of the house have almost domineered him. It is your
duty to assist in freeing him from this." Looking at the matter in the
light now presented to her, Mary began to think that her father was
right. "With a husband there should at any rate be only one feminine
influence," he added, laughing.
"I shall not over rule him, and I shall not try," said Mary, smiling.
"At any rate, do not let other women rule him. By degrees he will learn
to enjoy London society, and so will you. You will spend half the year
at Manor Cross or the deanery, and by degrees both he and you will be
emancipated. For myself, I can conceive nothing more melancholy than
would be his slavery and yours if you were to live throughout the year
with those old women." Then, too, he said something to her of the
satisfaction which she herself would receive from living in London, and
told her that, for her, life itself had hardly as yet been commenced.
She received her lessons with thankfulness and gratitude, but with
something of wonder that he should so openly recommend to her a manner
of life which she had hitherto been taught to regard as worldly.
After that no further hint was given to her that the house in London
might yet be abandoned. When riding back with her husband, she had been
clever enough to speak of the thing as a fixed certainty; and he had
then known that he also must regard it as fixed. "You had better not
say anything more about it," he said one day almost angrily to Lady
Susanna, and then nothing more had been said about it--to him.
There were other causes of confusion,--of terrible confusion,--at Manor
Cross, of confusion so great that from day to day the Marchioness would
declare herself unable to go through the troubles before her. The
workmen were already in the big house preparing for the demolition and
reconstruction of everything as soon as she should be gone; and other
workmen were already demolishing and reconstructing Cross Hall. The
sadness of all this and the weight on the old lady's mind were
increased by the fact that no member of the family had received so much
even as a message from the Marquis himself since it had been decided
that his wishes should not be obeyed. Over and over again the dowager
attempted to give way, and suggested that they should all depart and be
out of sight. It seemed to her that when a marquis is a marquis he
ought to have his own way, though it be never so unreasonable. Was he
not the head of the family? But Lady Sarah was resolved, and carried
her point. Were they all to be pitched down in some strange corner,
where they would be no better than other women, incapable of doing good
or exercising influence, by the wish of one man who had never done any
good anywhere, or used his own influence legitimately? Lady Sarah was
no coward, and Lady Sarah stuck to Cross Hall, though in doing so she
had very much to endure. "I won't go out, my Lady," said Price, "not
till the day when her Ladyship is ready to come in. I can put up with
things, and I'll see as all is done as your Ladyship wishes." Price,
though he was a sporting farmer, and though men were in the habit of
drinking cherry brandy at his house, and though naughty things had been
said about him, had in these days become Lady Sarah's prime minister at
Cross Hall, and was quite prepared in that capacity to carry on war
against the Marquis.
When the day came for the departure of Mary and her husband, a
melancholy feeling pervaded the whole household. A cook had been sent
up from Brotherton who had lived at Manor Cross many years previously.
Lord George took a man who had waited on himself lately at the old
house, and Mary had her own maid who had come with her when she
married. They had therefore been forced to look for but one strange
servant. But this made the feeling the stronger that they would all be
strange up in London. This was so strong with Lord George that it
almost amounted to fear. He knew that he did not know how to live in
London. He belonged to the Carlton, as became a conservative nobleman;
but he very rarely entered it, and never felt himself at home when he
was there. And Mary, though she had been quite resolved since the
conversation with her father that she would be firm about her house,
still was not without her own dread. She herself had no personal
friends in town,--not one but Mrs. Houghton, as to whom she heard
nothing but evil words from the ladies around her. There had been an
attempt made to get one of the sisters to go up with them for the first
month. Lady Sarah had positively refused, almost with indignation. Was
it to be supposed that she would desert her mother at so trying a time?
Lady Amelia was then asked, and with many regrets declined the
invitation. She had not dared to use her own judgment, and Lady Sarah
had not cordially advised her to go. Lady Sarah had thought that Lady
Susanna would be the most useful. But Lady Susanna was not asked. There
were a few words on the subject between Lord George and his wife. Mary,
remembering her father's advice, had determined that she would not be
sat upon, and had whispered to her husband that Susanna was always
severe to her. When, therefore, the time came, they departed from Manor
Cross without any protecting spirit.
There was something sad in this, even to Mary. She knew that she was
taking her husband away from the life he liked, and that she, herself,
was going to a life as to which she could not even guess, whether she
would like it or not. But she had the satisfaction of feeling that she
was at last going to begin to live as a married woman. Hitherto she
had been treated as a child. If there was danger, there was, at any
rate, the excitement which danger produces. "I am almost glad that we
are going alone, George," she said. "It seems to me that we have never
been alone yet."
He wished to be gracious and loving to her, and yet he was not disposed
to admit anything which might seem to imply that he had become tired of
living with his own family. "It is very nice, but----"
"But what, dear?"
"Of course I am anxious about my mother just at present."
"She is not to move for two months yet."
"No,--not to move; but there are so many things to be done."
"You can run down whenever you please?"
"That's expensive; but of course it must be done."
"Say that you'll like being with me alone." They had the compartment of
the railway carriage all to themselves, and she, as she spoke, leaned
against him, inviting him to caress her. "You don't think it a trouble,
do you, having to come and live with me?" Of course he was conquered,
and said, after his nature, what prettiest things he could to her,
assuring her that he would sooner live with her than with any one in
the world, and promising that he would always endeavour to make her
happy. She knew that he was doing his best to be a loving husband, and
she felt, therefore, that she was bound to be loyal in her endeavours
to love him; but at the same time, at the very moment in which she was
receiving his words with outward show of satisfied love, her
imagination was picturing to her something else which would have been
so immeasurably superior, if only it had been possible.
That evening they dined together, alone; and it was the first time that
they had ever done so, except at an inn. Never before had been imposed
on her the duty of seeing that his dinner was prepared for him. There
certainly was very little of duty to perform in the matter, for he was
a man indifferent as to what he ate, or what he drank. The plainness of
the table at Manor Cross had surprised Mary, after the comparative
luxury of the deanery. All her lessons at Manor Cross had gone to show
that eating was not a delectation to be held in high esteem. But still
she was careful that everything around him should be nice. The
furniture was new, the glasses and crockery were new. Few, if any, of
the articles used, had ever been handled before. All her bridal
presents were there; and no doubt there was present to her mind the
fact that everything in the house had in truth been given to him by
her. If only she could make the things pleasant! If only he would allow
himself to be taught that nice things are nice! She hovered around him,
touching him every now and then with her light fingers, moving a lock
of his hair, and then stooping over him and kissing his brow. It might
still be that she would be able to galvanise him into that lover's
vitality, of which she had dreamed. He never rebuffed her; he did not
scorn her kisses, or fail to smile when his hair was moved; he answered
every word she spoke to him carefully and courteously; he admired her
pretty things when called upon to admire them. But through it all, she
was quite aware that she had not galvanised him as yet.
Of course there were books. Every proper preparation had been made for
rendering the little house pleasant. In the evening she took from her
shelf a delicate little volume of poetry, something exquisitely bound,
pretty to look at, and sweet to handle, and settled herself down to be
happy in her own drawing-room. But she soon looked up from the troubles
of Aurora Leigh to see what her husband was doing. He was comfortable
in his chair, but was busy with the columns of the Brothershire Herald.
"Dear me, George, have you brought that musty old paper up here?"
"Why shouldn't I read the Herald here, as well as at Manor Cross?"
"Oh! yes, if you like it."
"Of course I want to know what is being done in the county." But when
next she looked, the county had certainly faded from his mind, for he
was fast asleep.
On that occasion she did not care very much for Aurora Leigh. Her mind
was hardly tuned to poetry of that sort. The things around her were too
important to allow her mind to indulge itself with foreign cares. And
then she found herself looking at the watch. At Manor Cross ten o'clock
every night brought all the servants into the drawing-room. First the
butler would come and place the chairs, and then the maids, and then
the coachman and footman would follow. Lord George read the prayers,
and Mary had always thought them to be very tiring. But she now felt
that it would almost be a relief if the butler would come in and place
the chairs.